The Underland Chronicals
by ThousandClaws
Summary: What if Alice fell down an air vent in a New York City apartment building instead of down a rabbit hole? Twelve-year-old Emma expects a long, boring summer of baby-sitting her brother and grandmother. Instead, she gets something beyond the brims of her imagination. When she and her brother fall into an air vent in the laundry room, they're abruptly thrust into a world far below...
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**I just want you guys to know that I OWN NOTHING, not the plot, nor the characters, or anything that Suzanne Collins wrote. This has a very similar plot, but a very different ending. Let me tell you something guys. I changed nothing except for a couple of characters. Gregor's gender has changed, and Ripred's, as well as Boots, simply for the sake of the plot. Let's see what happens, shall we?**

Chapter One – The Fall

Emma had pressed her forehead against the screen for so long; she could feel a pattern of tiny checks above her eye brows. She ran her fingers over the bumps and resisted the impulse to let out a loud scream. It was building up in her chest, that long howl reserved for real emergencies - like when you ran into a pack of hungry wolves without your gun, or when your fire went out in the winter. She even went so far as to open her mouth and take a deep breath before she banged her head back into the screen with a quiet sound of frustration. "Ergh."

What was the point, anyway? It wouldn't change on thing. Not the heat, not the boredom, not the endless space of summer that lay out before her. She flipped her dark curly hair over her tanned shoulder. Sweat made her tank-top cling to her skin uncomfortably.

She considered waking up Diego, her three-year-old brother, just for a little distraction, but she let him sleep. At least he was cool in the air-conditioned bedroom she shared with their eight-year-old brother, Matthew, and their grandpa. It was the only air-conditioned room in the apartment. On really hot nights, Emma and her mother could spread quilts on the floor to sleep, but with five in the room, it wasn't cool, just lukewarm.

Emma got a handful of ice from the freezer and slipped it down her shirt and into her bra. Not the most appropriate thing to do, she knew, but there was no one around and it was boiling hot. She stared out at the courtyard where a stray dog sniffed around an overflowing trashcan. The dog set its paws on the rim, tipping the can and sending the garbage across the sidewalk. Emma's doe-brown eyes caught a glimpse of a couple of shadowy shapes scurrying along the wall and grimaced. Rats. She never really got used to them.

Otherwise, the courtyard was deserted. Usually it was full of kids playing ball, jumping rope, or swinging around the creaky jungle gym. But this morning, the bus had left for camp, and every kid between the ages of four and fourteen had been on it. Except one.

"I'm sorry, honey, you can't go," her mother had told her a few weeks ago. And she had really been sorry, too, she could tell but the look on her face. "Someone has to watch Diego while I'm at work, and we both know your grandpa can't handle it anymore."

Of course she knew it. For the last nine months her _abuelo _had been slipping in and out of reality. One minute she was as clear as a bell, the next she was calling her someone called Benita. Who was Benita? She had no idea.

It would have been different a few years ago. Her mom only worked part-time then, and her _Papi_, her father, who'd owned a major constructing business, had been off every other week in the summer. He'd have taken care of Diego. But since her father had disappeared one night, Emma's role in the family had changed. She was the oldest, so she'd picked up a lot of the slack. Looking after her little brothers was a big part of it.

So all Emma had said was, "It's fine, Mom. I don't really care about camp, anyway." She'd shrugged to show that at twelve, she was past caring about things like camp. But somehow that had made her look sadder.

"Do you want Matt to stay home with you? Give you some company?" she'd asked.

A look of panic had crossed Matt's face at this suggestion. He probably would have burst into hysterics if Emma hadn't refused the offer. "No, it's okay. I'll be fine with Diego."

So, here she was. Not fine. Not fine spending the whole summer cooped up with a three-year-old and her grandpa who thought she was someone named—

"Benita!" she heard her _abuelo_ call from the bedroom. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling a little.

"Coming, Grandpa!" she called back, reaching back in her shirt and tossing the melting ice in the sink.

A golden glow filled the room as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the partly opened shades. Her grandpa lay on the bed covered by a thin woven quilt. It was several shades of green and made out of a sort of scratchy wool and had intricate patterns through the middle. In his more lucid moments, he'd tell her funny stories about the quilt. "And my _gran abuelo_ hid up in the tree day and night with the stolen sheep's wool, hoping that the hunting dogs would at one point leave so he could bring the wool home to my _gran abuelita_ so she could make the quilt, the very quilt we sit on now, _mi princesa_."

This, however, was not a lucid moment.

"Benita," he said, his wrinkled face showing relief at the sight of her. "I thought you forgot your money. You'll need it at the market."

Her grandpa had been raised in the mountains of Mexico City and had come to America when he married her grandmother. He had never really taken to it, and told her several times that he missed the town where he was born. Emma was a little envious that he could return to that place in his mind, because it wasn't fun sitting around the apartment all the time. By now the bus would probably be arriving at camp and Matt and the rest of the kids would—

"Em-a!" squealed a little voice. A curly head popped over the side of the crib. "Out! Me Out!" Diego clamped his tiny teeth onto a stuffed dog's ear and reached up both his arms to her. Emma lifted her brother out of the crib with an exaggerated heave, pretending that he was too heavy for her to carry. "Oomph! I think you're getting too big, Diego!" He giggled and the dog fell to the floor. She set her down to retrieve it.

"Be safe, _lindo_!" said Grandpa, still somewhere back in Mexico.

Emma took her hand to try and focus her attention. "You want a cold drink, _abuelo_? How about a soda?"

He laughed. "What is it, my birthday?" How do you respond to something like that?

Emma gave his hand a squeeze and scooped up Diego. "I'll be right back," she said loudly.

Her grandpa was still chuckling merrily to himself. "A soda!" he said, and wiped his eyes.

In the kitchen, Emma got out a glass bottle of _Jarritos_* and poured a glass of milk for Diego.

"Code," he beamed, pressing it to her face. "Yeah, nice and cold." said Emma.

A knock on the door startled her. The peephole had been useless for a good forty years. She called through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's Mrs. Cormaci, darling. I told your mother I'd sit with your grandma at four!" a voice called back. Then Emma remembered the pile of laundry she was supposed to do. At least she'd get out of the apartment.

She opened the door to find Mrs. Cormaci looking wilted in the heat. "Hello, you! Isn't it awful? I tell you I do not suffer heat gladly!" She bustled into the apartment patting her face with an old bandana. "Oh, my! Is that for me?" she said, and before she could answer she was gulping down the soda like she'd been lost in the desert.

"Sure," Emma muttered, heading back to the kitchen to get another. She didn't really mind Mrs. Cormaci, and today it was almost a relief to see her._ Great, Day One and I'm looking forward to a trip to the laundry room, _Emma thought. _By September, I'll probably be jumping for joy when we get the phone bill. _

Mrs. Cormaci held out the bottle for a refill. "So, when are you going to let me read your tarot, Missy? You know I've got the gift," she said. Mrs. Cormaci posted signs by the mailboxes offering to read tarot cards for people at ten bucks a shot. "No charge for you," she always told Emma. She never accepted because she had a sneaking suspicion Mrs. Cormaci would end up asking a lot more questions than she would. Questions she couldn't answer. Questions about her father.

She mumbled something about the laundry and hurried off to collect it. Knowing Mrs. Cormaci, she probably had a deck of tarot cards right in her pocket.

Down in the laundry room, Emma sorted the cloths as best as she could. Whites, darks, colors…what was she supposed to do with Diego's black and white shirt? She tossed them in the darks feeling sure it was the wrong decision.

Most of their cloths were kind of grayish anyway—from age, not bad laundry choices. All Emma's tank tops were just her old t-shirts with the sleeves cut off, and she only had a few jeans and skirts that fit from last year, but what did it matter if she was going to be locked in the apartment all summer?

"Ball!" cried Diego in distress, tugging on her skirt. "Ball!"

Emma reached her arm between the dryers and pulled out an old tennis ball Boots had been chasing around. She picked off the dryer lint and tossed it across the room. Diego ran after it like a puppy.

"What a mess," thought Emma, snorting with amusement. The remains of his lunch, egg salad and chocolate pudding, were still evident on Diego's face and shirt. He had colored his hands with washable markers that Emma thought maybe a sandblaster could remove, and his shorts sagged down around his knees.

Diego ran back to her with the ball, dryer lint floating in his curls. His sweaty faced beamed as he held out the ball. "Hey, buddy." she said, ruffling his hair.

"Ball!" he said, and then banged his head into her knee, on purpose, to speed her up. Emma tossed the ball down the alley between the washers and the dryers. Diego flew after it. As the game continued, Emma tried to remember the last time she'd been as happy as Diego was with his ball. She'd had some decent times over the past couple of years. She'd entered a few art competitions and gotten fairly high places, but never first place. She'd even been asked to demonstrate some art techniques in front of the class, one time. Things always seemed better when she drew; the pencil strokes seemed to carry her into a different world altogether.

Swimming was good, too. It made her seem more graceful than she really was, until she was focused on nothing but the feel of the water on her skin.

But if she was honest with herself, Emma knew it had been years since she'd felt real happiness. _Exactly two years, seven months, and thirteen days_, she thought. She didn't try to count, but the numbers automatically tallied up in her head. She had some inner calculator that always knew exactly how long her dad had been gone.

Diego could be happy. He wasn't even born when it happened. Matt was only four. But Emma had been nine and missed nothing; like the frantic calls to the police, who had acted almost bored with the fact that her dad had vanished into thin air. Clearly they'd thought he'd run off. They'd even implied it was with another woman.

That just wasn't true. If there was anything Emma knew it was that her father loved her mother, that she loved her and Matt, and that he would have loved Diego.

But then—how could he have left them without a word.

Emma couldn't believe her dad would abandon the family and never look back. "Accept it," she whispered to herself. "He's dead." A wave of pain swept through her. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Her father was coming back because…because…because what? Because she wanted it so badly it must be true? Because they needed him? _No_, thought Emma. _It's because I can feel it. I know he's coming back._

The washer spun to a stop, and Emma piled the cloths into a couple of dryers. "And when he gets back, he'd better have a really good explanation for where he's been!" muttered Emma as she slammed the dryer door shut. "Like he got bumped on the head and forgot who he was. Or he was kidnapped by aliens….Aaand I'm talking to myself again." But who knew? Lots of people got kidnapped by aliens on T.V. Maybe it could happen.

She thought about the different possibilities a lot in her head, but they rarely mentioned her dad at home. There was an unspoken agreement that her dad would return. All the neighbors thought he'd just taken off. The adults never mentioned it, and neither did most of the kids—about half of them only lived with one parent, anyway. Strangers sometimes asked, though. After about a year of trying to explain it, Emma came up with the story that her parents were divorced and her dad lived in California. It was a lie but people believed it, while no one seemed to believe the truth. Whatever that was.

"And after he gets home I can take him-," Emma said aloud, and then stopped herself. She was about to break the rule. The rule was that she couldn't think about things that would happen after her father got back. And since her dad could be back at any moment, Emma didn't allow herself to think about the future at all. She had this weird feeling that if she imagined actual events, like having her dad back next Christmas or going to the art museum with the whole family together, they would never happen. Besides, as happy as some daydream would make her, it only made returning to reality more painful. So, that was the rule. Emma had to keep her mind in the present and leave the future to itself. She realized that her system wasn't great, but it was the best way she'd figured out to get through a day.

Emma noticed that Diego had been suspiciously quiet. She looked around and felt alarmed when she couldn't spot her right away. Then she saw a scuffed black sandal poking out from the last dryer. "Diego! _Salir de alli*_!" said Emma.

You had to watch him around electrical stuff. He loved plugs.

As she hurried across the laundry room, Emma heard a metallic klunk and then a giggle from Diego. "Wonderful! Now he's dismantling the dryer," muttered Emma, picking up speed. As she reached the far wall, a strange scene confronted her.

The metal grate to an old air duct was wide open, secured by two rusty hinges at the top. Diego was squinting into the opening, about two feet by two feet, which led into the wall of the building. From where she stood, Emma could see nothing but blackness. Then a wisp of…what was it? Steam? Smoke? It didn't really look like either. Some strange vapor drifted out of the hole and curled around Diego. He held out his arms curiously and leaned forward.

"No!" screamed Emma as she lunged for him, but Diego's tiny frame seemed to be sucked into the air duct. Without thinking, Emma thrust her head and waist into the hole. The metal grate smacked into her rear. The next thing she knew, she was falling down, down, down into empty space.


	2. And into Wonderland

**Disclaimer: FANfiction.**

Emma twisted around in the air, trying to position herself so she wouldn't land on Diego when they hit the basement floor, but no impact came. Then she remembered the laundry room was in the basement. So what exactly had they fallen into?

The wisps of vapor had thickened into a dense mist that generated a pale light. Emma could see only a few feet in any direction. Her fingers clawed desperately through the white stuff, looking for a handhold, but came up empty. She was plummeting downward so fast, that it was sure to be a fatal hit once she slammed into the ground.

"Diego!" she screamed, and the sound bounced eerily back to her. _There must be sides to this thing_, she thought. She called again, "Diego!"

A bright giggle came from somewhere below her. "E-ma go wheeee!" said Diego.

_He thinks he's on a big slide or something_, thought Emma. _At least she's not scared._ She felt scared enough for the both of them. Whatever strange hole they had slipped into, it must have a bottom. There was only one way that this spinning though space could end.

Time was passing. Emma couldn't tell exactly how much, but too much to make sense. Surely there was a limit to how deep a hole could be. At some point, you'd have to run into water or rock or the earth's platelets or something.

It was all like this horrible dream she had sometimes. She'd be up high, somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, usually like the roof of her school. As she walked along the edge, the solid matter under her feet would suddenly give away, and down she'd go. Everything would disappear but the sensation of falling, of the ground closing in on her, of terror. Then, just at the moment of impact, she'd jerk awake, shivering with fear, heart pounding.

_That's what this is! I just fell asleep in the laundry room and this is the same crazy dream!_ thought Emma. _Obviously! _

Calmed by the notion that she was asleep, Emma began to gauge her fall. "One Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…" At seventy Mississippi she gave up and began to feel panicky again. Even in a dream you had to land, didn't you?

Just then, Emma began to notice the mist beginning to clear a little. She could make out the smooth, dark sides of a circular wall. She seemed to be falling down a large, dark tube. She felt an updraft rising from below her. The last wisps of vapor blew away, and Emma lost speed. Her skirt gently settled back on her body.

Below her, she heard a small thump then that patter of Diego's sandals. A few moments later, her bare feet made contact with the solid ground. She tried to get her bearings, not daring to move. Total darkness surrounded her. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of a faint shaft of light off to her left.

A happy squeak came from behind it. "Bug! Beeg bug!"

Emma ran toward the light. It leaked through a narrow crevice between two smooth walls rock. She barely managed to squeeze through the opening. Her foot caught on something, causing her to lose her balance. She tripped out from between the rock walls and landed on her hands and knees.

When she raised her head, Emma found herself looking into the face of the largest cockroach she'd ever seen.

Now, her apartment complex had some big cockroaches. Mrs. Cormaci claimed a water bug the size of her hand climbed out of her bathtub drain, and nobody doubted her. But the creature in front of Emma rose at least four feet in the air. Granted, it was sitting up on its back legs, a very unnatural-looking position for a cockroach, but still…

"Beeg bug!" cried Diego again, and Emma managed to close her mouth. She pushed back onto her knees but she still had to tilt her head back to see the roach. A torch was strapped around its head by some sort of cloth. Diego scampered over to Emma and tugged on the front of her shirt. "Beeeeg bug!" he insisted.

"Si, Diego. Very…big…bug." said Emma in a trembling voice, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She tried hard to remember what cockroaches ate. Garbage, rotten food…people? She didn't want to think about that. Maybe they could smell fear.

Trying to appear casual, Emma slowly edged her way back toward the crack in the rocks. "Okay, Mr. Roach, we'll be going now, we're sorry we bugged you—I mean, bothered you, I mean-"

"What smells so good, smells what?" a voice hissed, and it took Emma a full minute to realize it had some from the cockroach. She was too scared to make any sense of the words.

"Uh…excuse me?" her voice was a weak croak. Nice first impression. Then again, it was a giant roach she was talking to. She didn't think it cared.

"Smells what so good, smells what?" the voice hissed again, but the tone wasn't threatening. Just curious, maybe a little excited. "Be small human, be?"

_Be polite, answer the bug. It just wants to know 'Smells what so good?' apparently, so tell him._ Emma thought. She forced herself to take a deep sniff and then groaned inwardly. Only one thing smelled like that.

"I potty!" said Diego, as if on cue. "I go potty, E-ma!"

"My brother needs a clean diaper," said Emma, somehow feeling embarrassed.

The roach, she assumed, felt impressed. "Ahhh. Come closer can we, closer come?" said the roach, delicately sweeping the space in front of it with a leg.

"We?" said Emma. Then she saw the other forms rising out of the dark around them. The smooth black bumps she thought were rocks were actually the backs of another dozen or so enormous cockroaches. They clustered around Diego eagerly, waving their antennas in the air and shuddering in delight.

Diego, who loved any kind of attention, knew he was being admired. He stretched out his chubby arms to the giant insects. "I potty," he said proudly, and they gave an appreciative hiss.

"Be he prince, Overlander, be he? Be he king, be he?" asked the leader, dipping its head in slavish devotion.

"Diego? A king?" asked Emma, blinking. Suddenly she had to laugh.

The sound seemed to ruffle the roaches, and they withdrew stiffly. "Laugh why, Overlander, laugh why?" one hissed, and Emma realized that she had offended them. "Sorry. Its just we're really poor, and he's kind of a mess and…are you calling me Overlander?" She wound up, feeling not so afraid anymore.

"Be you not Overlander human, be you? No Underlander you," said the torchbearing roach, peering closely at her. "You look much like but smell not like."

Something seemed to dawn on the leader. "Rat bad."

It turned to its comrades. "Leave Overlanders here, leave we?" The roaches drew closely together in consultation and all began to talk at once.

Emma caught snippets of their conversation, but nothing made sense. They were so immersed in their debate that she thought about trying to slip away again. In the dim torchlight, they appeared to be in a long, flat tunnel. _We need to go back up_, thought Emma. _Not sideways_. She could never scale the walls of the hole they'd fallen down with Diego in her arms.

The roaches came to a decision. "You come, Overlanders. Take to humans," said the leader.

"Humans?" said Emma, feeling relieved. "There are other humans down here?"

"Ride you, ride you? Run you, run you?" asked the roach, and Emma understood it was offering her a ride.

"Er-yes, please." said Emma, scrambling up on to the smooth shell. "Ride, the prince, ride he?" said the roach hopefully, waving its antennas ingratiatingly and flattening itself before Diego. Before she could answer, Diego climbed up beside her and drummed her feet against the back of the large insect, squeaking, "Go! Go! Go!"

"Okay, but you has to hold onto me alright?" said Emma, and Diego grasped her shirt obediently. The roach took off immediately, and Emma found herself clinging tighter and tighter to the smooth exoskeleton.

The tunnel began to twist and turn. The roaches veered into side passages and even doubled back to choose a new route sometimes. In minutes, Emma was hopelessly lost, and the mental picture that she'd been making in her head resembled one of Diego's squiggly drawings.

Just when she was about to ask when they would be there, Emma heard a familiar roar. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but as they drew closer she felt sure. It was a crowd and, judging by the sound of it, a big one. But where could you fit a crowd in these tunnels?

The floor sloped sharply, and something soft and feathery brushed against her face and arms. Fabric? Wings? They passed through the stuff, and the unexpected light nearly blinded her. Her hand instinctively covered her eyes as they tried to adjust.

A gasp went up from a crowd. She'd been right about that part. Then it got unnaturally quiet. She suddenly got defensive as the sense that a great number of people were looking at her hit her.

Emma began to make out her surroundings. It wasn't really that bright—in fact, it seemed like twilight—but she'd been in darkness for so long she couldn't tell. The first thing she made out was the ground, which appeared to be covered with a dusky green moss. Except it wasn't uneven, but smooth as pavement. She could feel its springiness under her feet as she slid off the giant cockroaches' back.

_It's a field,_ she thought. _For some kind of game. That's why there's a crowd. It's a giant stadium. _

Slowly, it came into focus. A polished wall enclosed a large oval cavern about fifty feet high. The tip of the oval was ringed with bleachers. Emma's eyes traveled up the distant rows of people as she tried to find the ceiling. Instead, she found the athletes.

A dozen bats were slowly spiraling around the top of the arena. They ranged in color from light yellow to back. Emma guessed the smallest one had a wingspan of about fifteen feet. The crowd must have been watching them when she stumbled in, because the rest of the field was empty. _Maybe it's like Rome, and they feed people to the bats. Maybe that's why the roaches brought us here._ She thought.

Something fell from one of the bats. It hit the ground in the middle of the stadium and bounced twenty feet into the air. She thought, _Oh, it's just a –_

"Ball!" cried Diego, and before she could stop him he had slid off the roach, wiggled through the other bug, and started to run across the mossy ground with his little flat-footed stride.

"Most graceful, the prince," hissed a roach dreamily as Emma lunged after him. The insects had shifted easily to let Diego by, but they were an obstacle course for her. Either they were trying to slow her down, or there were so taken with Diego that they had forgotten about her.

The ball hit the ground a second time and bounced back in the air. Diego ran after it, reaching his arms high above his head to follow its path.

A shadow passed over her head. She looked up and to her horror saw a golden bat diving straight down at Diego. She'd never reach him in time. "Diego!" She screamed, finally breaking free and racing to her brother.

He turned around to her and saw the bat for the first time. His face lit up like a light. "Bat!" he shouted, pointing at the monstrous animal above him. The bat swooped over Diego, lightly brushing his finger with its belly fur, and then soared back into the air in a loop. At the top of the arc, while the bat was flat on its back, Emma noticed for the first time that someone was sitting on top of it. The rider had its legs wrapped around the bat's neck. She realized it was a girl.

The girl released her legs and dropped off the bat's back. She executed a perfect double back-flip, twisting around at the last moment to face Emma's direction, and landed on the ground as lightly as a cat in front of Diego just as Emma reached him. With a thrust of her hand, the dark-haired girl shoved Diego behind her. The girl's arm flashed out, and the ball fell into it in what was either a feat of remarkable timing or incredible luck.

Emma looked at the girl's face and could tell by her arrogant expression that there had been no luck involved at all.


	3. The Wanderer in a Foreign Land

**Whew! Two chapters in one day! Aren't you guys lucky? :D**

**Once again, if I owned this, I would be very happy.**

Over all, she was the strangest person Emma had ever seen. Her skin was so pale; she could see every vein in her body. She thought of the posters in her science class room. One had the skeleton of the human body. Next, the digestive system. This girl was a walking circulatory system.

At first she thought her hair was grey like her grandfather's, but that wasn't right. It was more of polished silver, or so she thought (from an artist's point of view). The girl's hair fell in a shining sheet down her back in an intricate braid down her back and was tucked into a belt at her waist. A thin band of gold encircled her head. It could have been some kind of hair band, but Emma suspected it was a crown of sorts.

She didn't want this girl to be in charge for two reasons. Number One, she didn't particularly any authority, especially others who were about her age. This "girl" (if you could call her that) could only be about a year older than her. Number Two, she could tell by the upright way she held herself, by the slight smile at the left corner of her mouth, by the way she looked down at her that she had an attitude.

Emma felt sure she'd done that fancy trick off the bat completely for her benefit. One flip would have been enough. It was her way to intimidate Emma, but she wouldn't back down. She locked eyes with the other girl and with a start saw that they were a hundred shades of violet.

Emma didn't know how long they would have stood there sizing each other up if Diego hadn't intervened. He plowed straight into the girl, knocking her off her balance. The girl staggered back and looked at Diego in disbelief.

Diego grinned winningly and held up a pudgy hand. "Ball?" he said hopefully.

The girl knelt on one knee and held out the ball to Diego, but she kept her fingers wrapped tightly around it. "It is yours if you can take it," she said in a voice like her eyes: cold, clear, and foreign.

Diego tried to take the ball, but the girl didn't release it. Confused, he pulled on her fingers. "Ball?"

The girl shook her head. "You will have to be smarter or stronger than I am."

Diego looked up at the girl, registered something, and poked her right in the eye. "Pu-ple!" The girl jerked back, dropping the ball. Diego scrambled after it and scooped it up.

Emma couldn't resist. With a slight smirk, she said, "I guess she's smarter." It was a little mean, but she didn't like her messing with Diego that way.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "But not you. Or you would not say such things to a queen."

So she'd been right. She was royalty. Still, Emma refused to be cowed. She shrugged. "Well, what did you expect? I just got here."

The girl decided to take it as an apology. "I will forgive it as you do not know. What are you called, Overlander?"

"My name's Emma. And that's Diego." She said, walking over to her brother and resting her hand on his head. "Who are you?"

"I am Queen Luxa," said the girl, seeming to stand taller.

Emma cocked her head. "Louk-za?"

"What does the baby mean? Pu-ple?" she asked.

"Purple. He's never seen purple eyes before," explained Emma.

"I have never seen color of brown before. Not on a human," said Luxa. She caught Diego's wrist and ran her fingers over the tan skin. He giggled as Luxa did it again, purposely to make him laugh. For a second, Luxa lost her attitude, and Emma thought she might not be so bad. Then she straightened up and resumed her haughty manner. "So, Emma the Overlander, you and the baby must bathe."

Emma blinked. She knew she was kind of sweaty from all that had happened in the past thirty, forty minutes, but that was pretty rude. "Maybe we should just go."

"Go?" asked Luxa in surprise.

"Home," she said.

"Smelling like you do? You will be thrice dead before you reach the Waterway, even if you knew the path." She could see Emma didn't understand. "You smell of the Overland. That is not safe for you here. Or for us."

"Oh," said Emma, feeling a little naïve. "I guess we should take a bath before we go home, then."

"It is not so simple. But I will let Vikus explain. You have had rare luck today, being found so quickly."

"How do you know we were found quickly?" asked Emma.

"Our lookouts noted you shortly after you landed. As you were the crawlers' find, we let them present you," she said.

"Alright then." said Emma. Where had the lookouts been? Concealed in the gloom of the tunnels? Hidden somewhere in the mist she'd fallen through? Until the stadium, she hadn't seen anyone but the roaches.

Luxa turned to the roaches. "Crawlers, what take you for the Overlanders?"

The head roach scurried forward. Give you five baskets, give you?" it hissed.

"We will give three grain baskets," said Luxa.

"The rats give many fish," said the roach, cleaning its antennas casually.

"Take them to the rats, then. It will give you no time," said Luxa.

"Hey, wait a minute!" protested Emma, stepping forward. "We're not objects for sale! Don't we have a say in this?"

Luxa glanced at her but said nothing.

The insect considered Luxa's last offer. "Give you four baskets, give you?" it said.

"We will give you four baskets, and one for thanks," said a voice behind Emma. She turned and saw a pale, bearded man approaching them on foot. His close-cropped hair was really grey, not the bright silver of Luxa's hair.

Luxa glared at the old man but didn't contradict him. The cockroach painstakingly added up four and one on its legs. "Give you five baskets, give you?" it asked, as if the whole idea was a new one.

"We will give you five baskets," said Luxa less than graciously, giving the roach a terse bow. It bowed back and scampered off with the other bugs out of the stadium.

"And if it is up to Vikus, soon we will have no baskets to give," the girl said pointedly to the bearded man who had turned his focus to Emma and Diego.

"One more basket will be a small price to pay if he is expected," he answered. His violet eyes stared intently at Emma. "Tell me, Overlander, are you from…" He searched for the words. "New York City?"


	4. Sudden Realizations

It was as if someone had splashed water in Emma's face and brought reality rushing back. Ever since she'd fallen through the hole in the wall, things had been happening so fast, it was all she could do to keep up with them. Now, in this momentary calm the words "New York City" came as a shock.

Yes! She was a girl who lived in New York City and had to be home before her mother got home.

"I have to get home right now!" Emma blurted out.

Her mom worked at a grocery store and usually got out right at five and was home by five-thirty. She'd be worried sick if she came in and found that she and Diego had disappeared. Especially after what had happened to her father.

_We probably fell for about five minutes, and then ran with the roaches about thirty, and we've been here for about ten_, she thought. _If we get back up there in the next twenty minutes it should be okay._ No one would think to look for them before that, and she could just take the laundry up and fold it in the apartment.

"Sir, I really have to go back home," she said to Vikus.

The old man was still examining her closely. "It is simple to fall down, but the going up requires much giving."

"What do you mean?" asked Emma, her throat tightening.

"He means you cannot go home," said Luxa flatly. "You must stay with us in the Underland."

"No thanks!" said Emma quickly. "I mean, you guys are all awesome and I'm sure that you're really nice, but I've got stuff to do…upstairs!" With that she grabbed Diego and bolted for the way they had come in. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luxa raise her hand as if she was saying good-bye, but that wasn't right. Luxa wasn't friendly enough to wave.

_If it's not a wave, then it's a signal!_ She thought, picking up her speed.

About ten yards from the doorway the first bat swept in front of her, knocking her flat on her back on the ground with Diego sitting on her stomach.

Every bat in the arena had dived for them. They flew in a tight circle around Emma and Diego, locking them in a prison of wings and fur. Each one had a ride as pale as Luxa, and they all seemed to have different shades of grey hair colors. They could be almost-white-silver, to almost black-grey, but none were the same.

Despite the close proximity and speed of the bats, none of the people had any trouble staying mounted. In fact, only a few bothered to hold on at all. One cocky-looking guy on a glossy black bat actually lay in a reclining position, propping up his head with one hand.

The riders couldn't take their eyes off the captives. As they flashed by, Emma could see their expressions ranged from amusement to outright hostility.

Emma pushed herself up and turned and glared at Luxa from the gaps in between the bats. She had one hand on her hip and was smirking arrogantly at the dark-haired girl. Emma narrowed her eyes and got to her feet. Diego tucked his arm around her knee and leaned against her. The circle of bats shrunk in even closer. "What? Like I'm going somewhere?" snapped Emma. She heard a couple of the riders laugh.

Luxa must have given another signal, because the bats peeled off one at a time and began wheeling around the arena in complicated patterns. Emma saw that neither she nor Vikus had bothered to move from where she had left them. She looked at the doorway and she knew it was pointless. Still...these people were a little too smug for their own good. Emma sprinted three steps for the exit before she whipped around and headed back to Luxa, catching her brother's hand on the way. Taken by surprise, the bats broke out of their formation and zoomed down, only to find themselves with no one to capture. They pulled up in an awkward clump, and while they didn't actually collide, Emma felt gratified to see several riders struggling to stay on their bats.

The crowd, which had been amazingly quiet since their appearance, broke out in appreciative laughter. Emma felt her confidence boost a bit. At least she wasn't they only one who looked like an idiot.

Luxa's gaze was icy, but Emma saw Vikus trying to suppress a smile as she walked up. "So, you said something about a bath?" she asked Luxa innocently.

"You will follow to the palace _now_," said Luxa crossly.

"Oh, can't it wait a bit?"

Luxa looked shocked and then her expression hardened. She flicked her hand, and her golden bat swept down behind her. Just as it was about to crash into her, Luxa leaped in the air. She lifted her legs straight out to the sides and touched her toes in a move Emma thought she'd seen cheerleaders do. The bat ducked under her, and she landed on its back easily. It arched up, missing Emma by inches. Then it righted itself in the air and sped out of the stadium.

Emma rolled her eyes and snorted. She felt angry with herself because, in fact, she had to admit that Luxa had impressed her.

Vikus heard her, and his smile broadened. Emma scowled at the old man. "What?"

"Will you follow to the palace, Overlander?" asked Vikus politely.

"As what, your prisoner?"

"As our guest, I hope," replied Vikus. "Although Queen Luxa has no doubt ordered the dungeon readied for you." His violet eyes literally twinkled, and Emma found herself liking the man in spite of herself. Maybe because he reminded her of her grandfather. She nodded. "Alright then. Lead the way."

Vikus nodded and waved her toward the far side of the arena. Emma followed a few steps behind him, towing Diego.

The stands were beginning to empty. High in the air, the people filed out through exits between their bleachers. Several bats still wove around the stadium doing aerodynamic maneuvers. Whatever game had been in progress had ended when Emma had arrived.

The remaining bats and riders were hanging around to keep an eye on her.

As they neared the main entrance of the stadium, Vikus dropped back and fell in step with her. "You must feel as if you are trapped in a dream, Overlander."

"I was thinking nightmare," said Emma evenly.

Vikus chuckled. "Our bats and crawlers—no, what is it you call them? Cockhorses?"

"Cockroaches," corrected Emma.

"Ah, yes, cockroaches," agreed Vikus. "In the Overland, they are but handfuls while here they grow so largely."

"How do you know that? Have you been to the Overland?" asked Emma curiously.

"Oh, no, such visits are as rare as trees. It is the Overlanders who come at times to us. I have met six or seven. One called Fred Clark, another called Mickey, and most recently a woman known as Coco. What are you called, Overlanders?" asked Vikus.

"Emma. And Diego. Are those other people still here?" asked Emma, brightening at the thought.

"Sadly, no. This is not a gentle place for Overlanders," said Vikus, his face darkening. Emma stopped, pulling up Diego short. "You mean you killed them?"

Vikus stopped and looked at her sharply. "We? We humans kill the Overlanders? I know of your world, of the evils that transpire there. But we do not kill for sport!"

"Today we have taken you in among us. Had we denied you, count on it, you would not be breathing now!"

"I didn't mean you…sorry, that came out wrong, I just didn't know how things happened here," stammered Emma. She mentally face-palmed. Nice first impression. "Would the roaches have killed us?"

"The crawlers kill you?" said Vikus. "No, it would give them no time." There was that expression again. What did it mean to give them time?

"But no one else even knows we're here," said Emma.

Vikus looked at her gravely. Concern had replaced his anger. "Believe me, child, by this time, every creature in the Underland knows you are here."

Ice gripped Emma's heart. "That's not a good thing, is it?"

"No, that is not in any manner a good thing."

The old man turned to the exit of the stadium. Half a dozen pale, violet-eyed guards flanked two gigantic stone doors. It took their combined efforts to push the door open a few feet and to allow Vikus to pass.

Emma led Diego through the doors and they closed immediately behind her. She followed Vikus down a tunnel lined with stone torches to a small arch filled with something dark and fluttery. She thought it might be more bats, but on a closer inspection she saw it was a cloud of tiny black moths. Was this what she had passed through when she stumbled into the stadium?

Vikus gently slid his hand into the insects. "These moths are a warning system peculiar to the Underland, I believe. The moment their pattern of flight is disturbed by an intruder, every bat in the area discerns it. I find it so perfect in its simplicity," he said. Then he vanished into the moths.

Behind the curtain of wings, Emma could hear his voice beckoning. "Emma the Overlander, welcome to the city of Regalia!"

Emma glanced down at Diego, who had a puzzled look on his face. "Go home, Em-a?" he asked.

She picked him up and gave him a hug. "Not know, buddy. We have to do some things first."

Emma took a deep breath and stepped into the moths.


End file.
